It's Been Too Long I'm Lost Without You
by Jack meets Eric
Summary: [ONE CHAPTER] What do you do when all is lost? Someone writes a final note…


TITLE: It's Been Too Long (I'm Lost Without You)  
AUTHOR: Magican  
RATING: PG-13 for angst, explicit scenes and slash.  
SUMMARY: What do you do when all is lost? Someone writes a final note…  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Boy Meets World, the characters, the scripts, yadiyadiyadada. Wish I could though, but then the show would be called 'Jack Meets Eric' and wouldn't air on Disney Channel. ;)  
NOTE: If you enjoy Jack/Eric slash, you could take a peek at my site – 

*****

So here I am. Sitting down on your bed, like I've done every day now, since… No.

Pen and paper in my lap. I'm trying to write steady words, but my hands can only shake and produce trembling sentences, unreadable except for you and me.

I know what they say. I don't need to read them anymore. I've written them a hundred times by now – the same words, over and over again.

_It's been too long._

_I don't miss the sunshine. I don't miss the wind on my face. I don't miss people._

_I miss the smell of hot coffee in the morning, when I get up from my bed and you are there, fixing us breakfast. I miss the touch of your hand when you hand me the cup. I miss your cheerful morning talk. I miss the way you smile, always a little insecure but happy to live another day. I miss the way you walk out of the door each morning. I miss the tightness with which you wrap your arms around me when you're glad you're home again. I miss the peace and comfort of being around you._

_I miss you. It's been too long since you were around. I'm lost without you._

It's been a year on this very day, since I lost you. It seems like I've lived a thousand lives in between that day and now, and just one long day at the same time. Time has been gray, gloomy, every minute of it the same. I wouldn't even have known what day it was today, if it hadn't been a special date.

The day you left me. They day I found you. And still I can't really understand why.

Why did you feel so bad that you thought no one could help you? I have always been there for you. You know that. I would have saved you, if you had just told me what was happening inside of you… Just those three words, and it would have been okay. Why couldn't you say them to me? Why did you write them down for me to read when it was too late? Were you that afraid?

If only I would have known.

How could I possibly know that you felt that way? You hid it pretty well. And so did I, I guess. You know, I was afraid too. I was afraid to show you all those feelings I had been piling up for years. I was afraid I was going to burst if I told you.

So I didn't.

And you… you were so scared of losing me, that you took the only other option you could think of. You thought you had no other choice. And the worst part is that you made that choice all alone. Like you have always felt. Alone.

We could have been… Could haves. How many of those have I made up the past year? We could have been happy. We could have been perfect. We could have been _together. You were not alone. I was there – but I was the only one you thought you could never reach._

So you chose another path. And when you reached the end of it, I found you.

*****

As I open the door, the quietness comes to greet me. No voices, no sounds of glasses or books, no television, no music. Deadly silence. I feel that there's something wrong. I slowly take one step inside.

"Jack? Are you home?"

A silly question really, because I know you are home – you promised me to have dinner together. Yet I don't get a reply. Maybe it's just Jack trying to be funny. A surprise or something. But deep down inside, I start to become afraid. 

"Jack? C'mon man, where are you? We have to start fixing that dinner, or we will be starving tonight! You won't do that to me, right?" I try to keep up a playful tone in my voice, but there's just a tiny tremble of fear. 

I walk towards the kitchen. Everything is cleaned up – the dirty plates from last week, which normally reside in the sink for at least three weeks, are gone. No dust on the table or floor. Everything shines, like no one lives here. Suddenly, pure fear overcomes me.

I run to our bedroom. Same there – everything is neat and tidy. Even my bed, normally one huge mess of books, pillows and other stuff, is now one straight square, my belongings stacked underneath it in small piles. My heart beats so hard by now I'm afraid the ceiling will come down any moment.

Next place is the bathroom. And that's where I find you.

The bath is filled to the rim with red water. Some is even spilled on the white floor and the walls. A body is lying in there. A body that looks like you. A body that must be you - but I don't believe it. 

I stumble towards the bath and fall down on my knees, eyes blurred with tears and hands shaking uncontrollably. I can't bring myself to touch that body.

"Jack, no… Jack…" I hear someone whisper. Then I realize it's me, and that it's really you lying there, head tilted aside, up to your chest in the red water. One hand in floating at the surface, where the water seems to be a little darker shade of red than the rest. I can still see some blood flowing out of a large cut in your wrist. 

I finally touch your check. It's cold and pale. It's not you in there anymore. I cry.

I could have saved you. If I had been there just a few minutes earlier, if that bus had been just a little faster, if I hadn't hesitated at the supermarket – I could have saved you.

It feels like you took _my_ wrists and cut them open. I feel all energy flowing away from me, and I let myself glide onto the wet bathroom floor. Everything turns black – and it's bliss.

When I wake up some time later, everything is still the same. The floor is still red with white, the bath still filled with your blood. It wasn't a nightmare.

As I pull myself on my feet, I'm too scared to look at your tortured face again. I turn around, stumble out of the room and throw up on the livingroom floor. Sweat is running down my back as my stomach contracts, and again, and again, until there is nothing left to come out. And still my body won't stop shaking.

I blindly crawl back to the bedroom on hands and knees. When I try to pull myself onto the bed, my hand finds something lying on the sheets. Something I didn't notice before. It's a note. I unfold with trembling hands.

_My sweet, sweetest Eric,_

_You must have found me by now. I trust you did. If everything went to way it was supposed to go, I'm dead. Funny really, to talk about your own death like this. And you know, actually, I'm not afraid of it at all._

_It's not your fault, although you probably think it is after you've read this. I feel this miserable for a whole lot of reasons. But you are the main one._

_I love you, Eric. And I can't take it any longer, keeping this secret from you. I've lived with it for so long now, and I see no way to say it to you. So I wrote it down._

_I love you. So much it is tearing my world apart, and my heart with it. It's just too much. I know you will never feel this way, so this was the best thing to do. The best thing I could come up with anyway. You know me, not always the brightest ideas… Anyway._

_I love you. Please don't hate me._

_Jack._

*****

I still have that note, you know. I still read it every day. And I always write the same words back to you. But not today. Today there's more.

_I miss you. It's been too long since you were around. I'm lost without you._

_I should have told you. We were meant to be together. That sounds cheesy, I know, and would have hated me saying this the way I do right now – but we were meant to be together._

_So I will come to you, Jack. It's been too long, and I'm lost without you. So I'll come to you, and kiss you like I want to kiss you for so long now._

_I love you too._

END


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